“Baby, you’re wicked,” Eda Lou said affectionately. “Except in your own head you can’t be an accessory to a murder that didn’t come off. What do you care what Shayne thinks? You’ll never see him again. You or me both.” She added in a tone that was carefully casual, “What was all that about nitrous whatever?”
Shayne had the binoculars on Barbara’s face. She was facing the window, her back to the housekeeper. Her nostrils flared.
“Nitrous oxide. It’s a kind of anesthetic, I think. He was throwing out things to see what kind of knee jerk he could get out of me.”
“And he got one, darling,” Eda Lou said softly. “I’m sorry to say he got one.”
For an instant there was a small secret smile on Barbara’s face. Then she turned toward Eda Lou.
“I never know what you’re thinking! Why can’t you break down and say two honest words? You could give me some advice if you felt like it. You knew Brad. You’ve known Frank longer than I have. What do I say to him when I see him tomorrow? Do I ask him where he got the idea it was all right to sit outside my front window at three o’clock in the morning and use me for target practice?”
The question sounded eerie to Shayne, but Eda Lou took it seriously. She came into view, still wearing the feathered negligee, and poured herself a drink.
“I’m going to have a pip of a hangover when I wake up,” she said. “You don’t really think that was Frank, do you? The Honorable Francis Xavier Shanahan? I doubt if he even knows which end of a gun the bullet comes out of.”
“But if Kitty’s really put away for the night-”
“Maybe she hired somebody. Maybe Brad arranged it, as a last will and testament. What seems funny to me-I know there’s a little chop in the cove tonight, but he had three or four good shots at under fifty yards. He missed with all of them.”
Barbara threw out both arms in one of her dramatic gestures. “Don’t torture me! Why would anybody want to shoot at me and miss?”
“Maybe because-” the older woman began, then didn’t go on. “Oh, Christ. All I have to say is, if I can see you through Wednesday without losing my marbles I’m going on a long, long cruise, all by myself.”
Barbara muttered something. She was turning as she spoke, and Shayne’s apparatus didn’t pick it up.
Eda Lou carried her drink to a tall carved chair beside the front window, and sat down facing Shayne. She fluffed out the feathers on her collar.
“This is a nightcap. Then we go to bed. Tomorrow’s another day. I’ll correct that. Today’s another day.”
Barbara, beside her, touched the starred bulletholes in the window, as if to persuade herself they were real.
“Even if this deal falls through, I can’t go on living here. Kitty can have the damn house if she’s that nuts about it.”
“Hey, what happened to the old fighting spirit all of a sudden?”
“All gone. Damn it all, if Frank doesn’t want to get married I don’t see why he can’t say so.”
The binoculars picked up the deep downward lines from the corners of her mouth. Shayne looked away. This part of his business was often necessary, but he didn’t ever want to get to like it.
“Once and for all,” Barbara said in a flat unemotional voice, “damn it, are you my mother?”
With his unaided eye, Shayne saw only her outline against the front window. Her face was blank. He raised the binoculars, looking not at Barbara but at the older woman. There was a strange expression on that heavily madeup face. Her lips had a mocking twist.
“That again,” she said. “Your mother’s name was Mrs. Cal Tuttle. A sweet uncomplaining pain in the ass, who never said a cross word to anybody. Why you can’t be satisfied I’ll never know. Very good stock. Churchgoing people, the flower of the Old South. And square? Your mother did one offbeat thing in her entire life, and that was to marry Cal. What’s wrong with you? Now we’re going to bed. We sat up the whole night, what do you think of that? Well, it’s the only wake that son of a bitch Brad is going to get.”
She lit a cigarette and said briskly, “To answer your question, I’m not your mother. I repeat, not. It seems to me I’d know, wouldn’t I? Freeze it, will you, for good?”
“I haven’t mentioned it once in five years!”
“And that’s once too many. I was your father’s dear friend and longtime companion, and the only reason he never married me was because I never brought the subject up. If I’d been the mother of his only child, wouldn’t he leave me a piece of his stinking Key? Really. Think it over.”
“God, you’re a hard person to get along with.”
“And how would you change your way of life if I said yes? What would you do, look after me in my old age? When I said I wanted to go on a cruise, did I say I wanted to go with you? You’re the world’s dullest travel companion, dear. I’ll never go through that again. Those goddamned ruins.”
Barbara dropped her cigarette into her martini glass. The phone rang before she could speak. Shayne saw her shoulders stiffen.
“Well, answer it,” Eda Lou said. “It’s probably somebody who wants to break the bad news about Brad.”
“Damn it, I’m too tired.”
Eda Lou exclaimed with annoyance and went to the phone, her cigarette between her lips.
“Hello? Yes, but she’s asleep. The way all Christian people ought to be at this time of night. This is her housekeeper, and what can I do for you?” After a moment she said sharply, “Who?” She covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Hank Sims! Now what the hell?”
Into the phone she said, “Out of the blue. We were all so broken up when we heard that you and that pretty wife had decided to go separate ways. What do you mean I don’t sound sincere? I’m always sincere when anybody wakes me up just before daybreak. You already said you wanted to talk to Barbara. Call at a civilized hour. I’m going back to bed. Dial the number again and you’ll get a busy signal.”
She listened briefly. “Hold on a minute.”
Covering the phone again she said, “It’s about Frank, and he says it’s important. You have to talk to him, baby.”
“About Frank?” Barbara went to the phone as though sleepwalking. “He’s dead. Brad killed him before he went to Kitty’s. I know he did.”
“Talk to him,” Eda Lou said patiently. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”
Barbara took the phone. “Is Frank all right? — But where are you? I’m coming into Miami later. I can meet you. Yes, of course, if you’re in Marathon you might as well drive over, but what’s it about? — All right, I’ll make some coffee. But this better be important!”
She hung up and whirled on Eda Lou. “He has something to show me and he won’t talk about it on the phone.”
Eda Lou’s eyes narrowed against the smoke from her cigarette. “If it’s bad, we can’t guess it away. He’ll be here soon enough.”
“How about their divorce? Did that go through or are they still-”
She left the room. Eda Lou followed, taking the martini pitcher and the glasses.
Shayne changed position, easing the pull on his injured leg. The sky was beginning to brighten in the east. The tangled undergrowth all around the big tree seemed less formidable than when he had fought his way through it in pitch darkness. He rubbed his ears and replaced one earphone. After finishing his cigarette he added it to the burned out butts in the peanut can and lit another.
Then the women came back into the living room.
Eda Lou was still wearing her negligee but Barbara had changed into pink slacks and a blouse. She had worked on her face and hair. Shayne checked her appearance through the binoculars. She looked fresh and glowing, and Shayne wondered, not for the first time, at the resilience of women.
“I ought to be worrying,” she said brightly, “but I’m not. I’ve decided how to handle Frank. I’ll bring it out in the open. Was he shooting at me, or wasn’t he? Naturally he thought I’d just send back his ring on some pretext or another. He’s in for a surprise.”
“Baby,” Eda Lou said admiringly, taking bottles to the sideboard, “I like to listen to the way your mind works. We have to do something about this broken glass, unless we want Hank to think we sit around shooting out light bulbs.”